Book 2

It is only Book Two and I am already feeling a little overwhelmed by the number of characters and new developments in the story.  I think my way of coping with this overload was to latch onto one character I found interesting (similar to what I did in Book One), and I think this character is a lot like my favorite from Book One.  What can I say… I’m in the social sciences – I love people!

Tertius Lydgate is certainly a man with a story.  He is the orphaned child of a man who served in the military and he is fascinated with medicine.  Lydgate, like Mrs. Cadwallader, chose to follow his passion despite the feelings of his wealthy family, who do not agree with his desire to become a medical doctor/ research scientist.  Tertius Lydgate goes to Middlemarch to practice medicine and to do his work of discovering an anatomical tissue.

Things go swimmingly for Lydgate at first.  His practice is successful and he is able to open a second hospital.  His reputation as both a good man and a good doctor do Mr. Lydgate well.  His dreams are coming true and his life is pretty great.

In similar fashion to Mrs. Cadwallader, when Lydgate falls in love with and marries Miss Rosamond Vincy, he is following his heart.  Unfortunately for him, Rosamond is a woman with high class aspirations.  She marries Lydgate because he comes from an upper class family and she believes he can provide her with the lifestyle she dreams of.  I do not believe Rosamond to be villainous, but I do think she is a little bit idealistic, almost selfish.  Lydgate finds himself in an increasingly large sum of debt due to Rosamond’s expensive taste.  He is still a good man and a good doctor, but his dreams appear to be slipping as quickly as his finances.

Kailey Murphy, Hollins ‘16

The second book introduces us to some other characters that are a part of the Middlemarch community, we meet the Vincys, Lydgate and others. In this book, we get to know more about the community of Middlemarch as well as the hierarchy.

Starting this book was anticipating reading more about Dorothea and Mr. Casaubon marriage life and if it was everything that Dorothea image. At the end of book one we learned that Mr. Casaubon did not care about Dorothea as much as she thought, all he cared about was his research. In book two we get to see this, all of their honeymoon was spent with Dorothea by herself touring while her husband locked himself up in the library. This image given by Eliot made me feel sorry for Dorothea, which newlywed wife would like to spend her honeymoon virtually by herself. What makes even sadder is that she looks at her husband as though he was a God. With him basically ignoring her, we realized her admiration of him was slowly dimming. The shocker  was Casaubon reaction to his nephew visiting his wife when she was home alone. Casaubon seems jealous for no reason at all, the way it ended in book two with regards to his feelings I thought he did not care about Dorothea, this scene makes me wonder. I question whether he actually care about Dorothea or is it his pride talking.

Rosamond vs. Dorothea: Rosamond is an example of a young lady during that time. Young ladies who only care about their marriage and their social standing within society. The right kind of marriage changes their lifestyle and change their social standing. They only care about pushing up their husbands, getting married and having children. Dorothea is an in between of traditional and almost modern, she wants an education that the men at that time receive, yet being a woman puts a limit on her. She wants to understand information about the world and different theories and she wants to help, but at the same time she seems a little ignorant.

The character that is a little questionable for me is Lydgate, we do not know a lot of information about him, where he’s from and who is family is. There are rumours, but no one knows if it is true or not. He seems as though he is a very intelligent young man who is working his way up by using any form of connection he can make. At the same time he is trying to keep out of the power struggle that is going on in Middlemarch, but that later gets thrown out the window. He talks about not wanting to get married, but he is sending the opposite signal to Rosamond who is determined to marry someone who is not from Middlemarch. In general, there is some confusion about who he is, his intentions fully to Rosamond and what he really wants because what he says sometimes contradicts his actions an example would be that of voting for Mr.Tyke.    

Keulesia Webley-Sewell

In Book Two of George Eliot’s “Middlemarch,” Dorothea is first relegated to her own private affairs but is then rescued from this private world while her scholarly husband, Causabon, occupies himself at the Vatican. Prior to the marriage unraveling in Rome, Dorothea is at a party where she is “naturally the subject of many observations” (88). This party scene, presenting Dorothea from the outsider’s perspective, displays that she is not merely an individual who lives in a vacuum, but shows, rather, that she is a social self who is subject to public surveillance. While the social discourse surrounding Dorothea could be dismissed as intrusive and unnecessary, this voyeuristic standpoint, though objectifying, contributes to a more thorough and complex picture of Dorothea as her internal world begins to collapse. The lens is taken out of Dorothea’s hand and is placed in the hand of her peers.

Dorothea’s lack of vision as a neglected wife in Rome is experienced as a diminishment in stature as she succumbs to depression and a “self-accusing cry” (192). While feeling confused and unhelpful, Dorothea suffers from ineffectiveness. Meanwhile, the attraction that Naumann and Ladislaw have for Dorothea recast her as, no longer a downtrodden wife, but as “the most perfect young Madonna.” Naumann has even invented an assignment for Dorothea to star in a portrait of his, although without her knowledge. Suddenly, where Dorothea is found unappreciated by her husband, she is praised and pursued by these young aspiring men; the demand for Dorothea has not completely sunk.

Moreover, where Dorothea is rejected and forlorn, Will ridicules Causaubon for his failure to appreciate Dorothea. As Will listens to Dorothy, he empathizes with her plight. Furthermore, in these exchanges with Will, Dorothea exercises her boldness and intellectual curiosity. As Dorothea’s friendship with Will develops, Dorothea shifts away from her internal strivings as she openly grows invested in Will’s opinion.

By shedding insight into Causabon’s lack of knowledge of German, Will inadvertently defends Dorothea by showing her that this guy is not as tough as you think he is. At the same time, this backfires as Dorothea’s sense of purpose as a wife is built on the impression that her husband is a big shot with the highest intellectual capacity. This mockery is met with horror and shock by Dorothea who, ineffectually, in her choice to marry Caussabon, purchased stock in his scholastic talents as she hoped to drink from his well of knowledge. Will’s statements, then, are profoundly debilitating for Dorothea as a brick is pulled out from the foundation that her marriage is built on. Who now, after Will has exposed Dorothea to an ugly truth only to reject her friendship, who will be her spokesperson?

Marci Batchelor

You know that no matter what you do, there is always a consequence. Some of them are good consequences others not so good. For example, you touch a hot stove you get burned. You speak before you think sometimes your filter won’t be turned on and you could say something completely ridiculous. If you help someone of your own free will your karma will come back and you could be rewarded. If you don’t manage your money well you could end up in debt like Freddy.
Freddy thought he would receive a large sum of money in an inheritance. Without hesitation he spent everything he had and also took out a large loan. Thinking that he would have the money through the inheritance, and with a poor back up plan, he found himself in deep debt because his inheritance was revoked. On top of everything he does not want to go into the church so he can marry his childhood sweetheart Mary. Mary does not seem to really love Freddy since if she did love Freddy she would not really mind if Freddy listened to his parents and went into the church. Freddy could also move up in society if he was in the church and they could gain respect from more people since the people of Middlemarch love the church. Since having upper social status is what Freddy’s parents want for all their children.
Dorothea also did not think everything through her marriage to Casaubon. For example, she was in the honeymoon phase throughout her entire courtship. She was blinded by her idea of love and devotion, having spirited debates with her husband. She also thought that she could be an equal to her husband, and be his devoted scholarly helper so he could write his book that was meant to help man kind. In her blind emotions, she did not see how cold her husband was and how miserable her life was going to be. She also skipped the actual honeymoon phase on her real honeymoon since Casaubon was always gone. Dorothea was left alone in their apartment all the time craving companionship and love, while he was off doing his own thing that was meant to help him with his book.
Dorothea had spent her entire life in Middlemarch. What the men in Middlemarch saw while looking at her was probably the little girl she had been her whole life and could not really see how she had grown up. Ladislaw can see that Dorothea is “a charming and adorable creature” to quote him and cannot help, but wonder why she married Casaubon who is old enough to be her father. For some reason Ladislaw keeps visiting Dorothea when Casaubon is not home. It also seems like Ladislaw has no set future in the book. Ladislaw seems to be living his life on Casaubon’s dime. Every time Ladislaw has a new idea or some new fetish Casaubon has to pay for it. Ladislaw and Casaubon seem to constantly be at odds with each other.
Casaubon wants Ladislaw as far away from his wife as physically possible. It does not help the fact that Dorothea likes Ladislaw as a friend. Casaubon also seems to think to highly of himself. For him everything Dorothea wants to do is silly and pointless, while everything he wants to do is for the good of mankind. He also insulted Dorothea’s portrait and thought he himself looked like a god when he saw his portrait. In reality he is just as immature as Ladislaw and will loose his wife if he does not come off of his high horse and try to connect with his wife.

Julia Rogan

Throughout all of Book II of Middlemarch, I kept remembering a quote from the movie Serenity—“what you plan and what takes place ain’t ever exactly been similar”. There is a natural discordance between plans and actual events, but Mr. Lydgate, Dorothea, and Mr. Casaubon, due to not realizing that they have less control over their future than they imagine, come through Book II bruised and battered.

Take Mr. Lydgate. He is by all appearances a master of his own destiny. He is a well-educated doctor, just setting out on his journey of professional life. He purposely chooses to move to Middlemarch instead of a metropolis because his “plan of the future” was “to do small good work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world”, necessitating he remove himself for the bustle and self-importance of the city and live in the country where he could practice in relative quite. He did not mean to immediately get caught up in small town politics, let alone being to develop friend and potential enemies from the outset. Lydgate sets himself up as one of the most important people in a small town—as a pillar of the ‘good’ set of society—and has no concept of the role society demands he fill. He looks forward to a future full of personal academic inquiry, but it seems that goal is going to be totally derailed.

Meanwhile in Rome, a city that is full of sensuous pleasure for all the senses, Dorothea and Mr. Casaubon are finally realizing that they may have entered into marriage without considering the motives of the other person. The Dorothea we meet in Book I is in love with learning. Though she bows to the ‘intellectual superiority’ of men, she fully believes herself to be intelligent and learned. This is seen most clearly in her quest to redesign and help the poor within her provincial location. She is feisty and dearly wants to fulfill her duty to help others. She sees her potential marriage to Mr. Casaubon as a potential avenue for greater learning, though “from the very first she had thought of Mr. Casaubon as having a mind so much above her own, that he must often be claimed by studies which she could not entirely share” (106). Dorothea wants to act as a secretary and pupil to Mr. Casaubon —not act as a demure wife and nurse. In Rome, she wants to learn about her surroundings and gain from Casaubon’s knowledge, but he is forever in the Vatican library. This location is interesting because he and Dorothea are now literally in a male dominated place, religiously and intellectually, and Dorothea is left out with statues and paintings of idealized women.

Mr. Casaubon would have been more comfortable if he had married a statue of a women then Dorothea. He really only wanted a nurse and wife, not an intellectual equal. His attitude in Rome is one that completely dismisses Dorothea’s insights. He talks down to her constantly, coddling her intellectually like a child. When asking her if she would like to see some frescos, he remarks that “the romantic inversion of a literary period, and cannot,… be reckoned as genuine”, but if she likes these “wall-paintings” they can go see them ( 109). He speaks of them in this manner to highlight his own intelligence while referring to them as ‘wall-paintings’ to make sure that Dorothea knows what he is deriding. He wants an idealized wife and nurse, not an intellectual sparring partner. Both are beginning to come around to the idea that their desires when they entered into marriage are not going to be met.

Book II is entitled Old and Young—a very apt name considering fate makes equal fools of Dorothea, Mr. Casaubon, and Mr. Lydgate. They all must struggle to leave behind their simplistic notions of how their future will turn out in favor of reality. Elliot masterfully allows us to watch as all three characters experience the growing pains of reality.

Valerie Harrison

It is in Book II that Middlemarch seems to finally move beyond the lengthy introductions to and descriptions of the inhabitants of the town to present some of the kinds of conflict that this little town endures. Although the outsider Dr. Tertius Lydgate wishes to “[c]onfound their petty politics!” I for one deeply enjoyed the nuanced view that Eliot provides into the political underbelly of this small society (169). Quickly entrenched in the middle of the most current issue, Lydgate must reconcile his professional ambitions with his personal opinions in regards to the appointment of a clergyman to Middlemarch’s new hospital. Torn between the only two pastors in the area, Rev. Farebrother and Rev. Tyke, Lydgate’s inner turmoil culminates in a tie-breaking vote that puts him in line with the powerful banker, Mr. Bulstrode.

The presentation of the two reverends revolves mostly around others’ opinions of the men. While Bulstrode clearly favors Rev. Tyke as “a real Gospel preacher,” Mr. Lydgate appreciates Farebrother’s “ingenious and pithy” manner, quickly making friends with the Vicar (174, 168). From Eliot’s presentation of Farebrother, it appears that he should by all accounts win the chaplainship appointment with little resistance. According to the author, he was such a “likeable man” that “[p]eople outside his parish went to hear him” (168). In contrast, “[n]obody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that they could not bear him” (170).

Unfortunately for Farebrother, his overall popularity with the parishioners could not overcome the withering opinions of Mr. Bulstrode, who bends his will to see Tyke appointed. Although Lydgate appears desirous to help out his friend, his own ambitions supersede his friendship and allow him to justify voting for Tyke, a man to whom we as readers have not even been properly introduced. It does seem interesting that Rev. Tyke is not given his own voice during the ordeal. Instead, his defense is left to members of the medical board of infirmary and Mr. Bulstrode, neither of which seem to provide a very strong case in favor of the man. Even his name, Tyke, seems lacking and immature in comparison to that of Farebrother, who lives up to his handle during his gracious loss of the coveted position.

In the end however, it does not matter whether or not the audience gets to judge Rev. Tyke from intimate knowledge or secondhand opinion because the major focus lies on Lydgate’s conundrum. Many people are faced with the juxtaposition of competing desires and must find a way to not only come to a decision but then justify their conclusion. Lydgate’s friendly feelings toward Farebrother may come from a genuine rapport between the two, but he appears to have already made up his mind to align himself with Bulstrode and his man, Tyke. As the newcomer to Middlemarch, Lydgate’s status is essentially at the mercy of those in power, leaving him little actual choice in his decision. If choice is essential to freewill, then at least in this issue, Lydgate was bound to his decision from the start.

Emily Fleishhauer

Ugh, I am at a loss when I begin to think of Dorthea and Mr. Casaubon.  The dramatic irony in Middlemarch reminds me of so many Greek/Roman tragedies.  I have caught myself speaking out loud about how obtuse Dorthea can be and she exasperates me to the point that I cannot even feel sorry for her.  For example, when William tells her that she is a poem and she just blows it off and says thankyou (223).  By the end of Book 2 I kept finding so many parallels between this novel and others that I have read that I find myself linking their traits.

For example a dramatic irony; as you read along and you want to jump into the pages and tell Dorthea that Will is infatuated and idolizes -I would not say love yet-with her and Mr. Casaubon is jealous and worried about their growing relationship.  Also, it was apparent in book one that Dorthea had ill-conceived ideas about how her marriage was going to be and she is already changing her personality to morph into what is now her lot in life.  But so many little remarks and jumping to conclusions reminds me of Oedipus in her traits.  Dorthea ignores the obvious and internalizes the results calling herself stupid and obtuse for not knowing art, literature and music.  She does not see the beauty she carries and only believes that her sister has that trait.  Oedipus does not see that he is king and the prophecy was only to locate the former king’s murderer, not maim himself and banish himself from his city instead of acknowledging that he could be king of the other city and leave the one to Creon.  Dorthea does not mention Will any further when Edward gets grumpy, just as Oedipus drops the accusations against Creon when Jocasta tells him to.   Will worships her just as the townspeople of Thebes worshiped Oedipus on the palace stairs as Will wanted to throw himself to her slippers and they lay on the stairs at the beginning of “Oedipus Rex” (221).  Will also begs for an opportunity to be in Dorthea’s servitude, just as Thebes embraced Oedipus after he conquered the Sphinx and made him king (224).   the many references to Homer and other tragedies – the “Homer bits,” (219) the “tragic chorus, wailing and moralizing over misery,” (219) He would not see the truth and/or did not want to believe it about his father, just as Dorthea does not see the truth about how her marriage will be.  The response the Chorus gives acknowledging Oedipus is the same as the townspeople responding in disbelief of Dorthea’s marriage.

In another way, Edward remind me of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.  Frankenstein left his wife alone on their wedding night similar to how Edward leaves Dorthea alone for most of their honeymoon.  This action of Edward’s reminds me of how Frankenstein was so self-centered in his brilliance and egotism that the creature would come for him, just as Edward is so wrapped up in his egotism about his research that he doesn’t thing that anyone will come and take his bride away.  But, both men, Frankenstein and Edward, find that someone will take their wife away.  Fortunately, Edward acknowledges a threat and spends more time with Dorthea towards the end of their trip in an attempt to “protect his property” as he really sees Dorthea as property instead of a person.  Another way that Edward is much like Frankenstein is that both men have God-complexes.  Edward appreciates the fact that Dorthea worships and idolizes him.  In the same respect Frankenstein created his creature for the sole purpose to be God-like as well.  The egos these men have could power a city if it could be captured.

In addition, Will reminds me of a reluctant Horner from “The Country Wife.”  He is not really trying to chase Dorothea, but he is pursuing her in a similar way that Horner goes after all the women.  While Mrs. Pinchwife is also obtuse, just as Dorthea is, she does bend to Horner’s will eventually.  I will have to wait and see if Dorthea does the same, but the similarities between Middlemarch and the other novels and plays I have read is amazing.

Vickie Culpepper

Meeting more characters can make my head whirl, until I noted some hints about their names that set me straight. Mr Bulstrode, local banker, barges his way into Middlemarch as a headstrong bull, spreading anxiety about who dares confront his judgments. He cannot boast family lineage, but he controls town finances and distances himself from the community with a superior, paternalistic attitude.

Friendly, sincere Mr Farebrother, rector of the parish, is not afraid to enjoy a game of whist or billiards, despite living in an era of small town evangelical customs. His tolerant behavior towards ‘the bull’ is as genuine as his devotion to his biological family of various single women. Referring to Bulstrode’s reason for disliking him, Mr Farebrother gives a direct response, without denigrating the banker’s nature, or being unkind.

Dr Lydgate enters the tale as a stranger to the village, immediately becoming an ideal linchpin for Eliot to weave her tale. The young physician appeals to Bulstrode and to the town, which counted on swallowing and assimilating him (p 154). But Lydgate’s ambition for medical reform, with an aim for the common good, confirms a distinctive quality about him (p 142). His plan of the future is to do good small work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world (p 149). Lydgate has a genuine interest in not only each patient as a person, but in their medical condition. Committed to both intellectual and practical pursuits, he pursues his goal of establishing a fever hospital. Early on, he faces the unwelcome dilemma of becoming involved in an election for hospital chaplain. Not wanting to make enemies, especially where medical reform might be concerned, he disregards the likeable Mr Farebrother and casts his very public vote for Mr Bulstrode’s choice. Lydgate’s impartial position continues to erode, when he makes mocking remarks to his colleagues about who is better qualified to be a coroner, the current lawyer or a modern doctor?

A lawyer is not better than an old woman at a post-mortem examination (p 157).

At this point, I was chuckling at such outbursts among civilized, educated, conventional men! Additionally, Lydgate’s youth and masculinity provide the obligatory romantic unfolding. Will his infatuation for certain women permit the survival of his dedication to a work ethic?

Rosamund, beautiful rose and cunning sweetheart, attracts the vulnerable doctor with her feminine charms. Her small feet and perfectly turned shoulders (p 158) blind him to the vulgarity of Rosamund’s mother. Further premonitions surface from her aunt Bulstrode, who…had two sincere wishes for Rosamund- that she might show a       more serious turn of mind, and that she might meet with a husband whose wealth          corresponded to her habits. (p 167) Sadly, this reminds me of the first disastrous marriage in Book 1, except now I am cheering for the potential groom in question.

A ‘swinging gate’ points to Lydgate’s position among the “Old and the New” members of Middlemarch society, and his facility to forge new links amongst them. He threatens shallow, professional identities (an older doctor’s ‘expert’ reputation based on a 30 year old calf-bound treatise on meningitis chapter 16). Romance may turn out to be his undoing, which reminds me of Dorothea, whose unwelcome realization of marriage to a dreary and self-serving elderly husband, contrasts sharply with energetic, handsome Will Ladislaw, who pays attention to her.

George Eliot’s keen analysis of human behaviour keeps me engaged and curious; I can imagine when the novel first appeared, and her readers had to wait between publications of the 8 books within Middlemarch. No electronic media to distract conversations about the story line… much as the ‘Downton Abbey’ series unites us today.

I at least have so much to do in unraveling certain human lots, and seeing how they were woven and interwoven, that all the light I can command must be concentrated on this particular web, and not dispersed over that tempting range of relevancies called the universe. (p 141)

I am beginning to comprehend Virginia Woolf’s comment about ‘this novel for grown-ups’. Eliot pours her whole imaginative self and intellect into a range of characters that inhabits a small area of England, giving enough time and opportunity for the reader to experience life at its full. My own sense of empathy, as well as delight in the author’s wit, is prodded into action. I am grateful for the challenge.

Tudy Hill